


In and Out

by jumbi



Series: Filling the Void [9]
Category: Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Very slow recovery, fight me, pregame, the count yells 'wheRE IS NASTASIA' even when she tells him where she's going, yes the title is a burger pun i couldn't resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumbi/pseuds/jumbi
Summary: o'chunks starts getting to know the 'actual' count, who has finally been metaphorically dragged to shore after a long time at the bottom of the ocean.





	In and Out

**Author's Note:**

> this short scene takes place in my larger comic story "filling the void". it takes place between scenes 63 (in which the count becomes more aware of what exactly the prognosticus is doing, and o'chunks and nastasia goof around with hats) and 64 (in which the count is left to his own devices for a few minutes while o'chunks and nastasia talk about philosophy).

The Count turned his head to frown at O’Chunks from across the cooking fire. He looked like he had something more to say, so O’Chunks waited patiently. Eventually, though, the Count gave up and returned to his mending. He thumbed at the fabric carefully. O’Chunks glanced down at their burgers in the pan, considering whether or not to poke them again. They would need to be flipped soon.

A low sound caught his attention over the sound of the little waterfall behind them. The Count’s mouth was open, but the waterfall was swallowing any details of his voice. O’Chunks rubbed at his cheek. The only clear spot in the rock forest had been next to the running water, but it was killing his conversational ability.

“Yeh’ll have t’speak up, Count,” he called, unable to judge the volume of his own voice. The Count’s ears twitched as he strained to hear O’Chunks.

“Count Bleck w-worries…” The rest of his sentence was lost to the water. O’Chunks growled and scooted over to the other side of the fire next to the Count. The ground was wet and cold over there, but the Count didn’t seem to care. O’Chunks shifted his weight, trying to lean on the driest patch he could find.

“Worried about Nassy?” O’Chunks finished for him. The Count nodded, focusing on the fabric. The book drifted to the Count’s other side. O’Chunks kept his eye on the torn dress in an effort to ignore it. “We’ve been doin’ it this way fer a while,” he said. “One goes, and th’other stays with yeh.”

“The… minions… th-the… that is no longer… necessary,” the Count said. His volume was getting better, but O’Chunks sometimes still had trouble parsing his clipped, halting words. O’Chunks motioned for the Count to continue. He took a deep breath. “I-it is… not sa… fe.”

O’Chunks turned back to the pan to flip the burgers. “Safer than try’na take yeh into town with us,” he replied. “An’ yeh cannae be left alone, so one of us has t’stay.”

He felt a rough bump at his side. The book had swung back around and smacked into O’Chunks as it sandwiched itself between him and the Count. The Count glared at O’Chunks over the top of the book, his eyes bright and narrowed. “ _’Count Bleck can take care of himself,’ snarled Count Bleck._ ”

“No yeh can’t,” O’Chunks replied with a shrug. He busied his hands with hanging the spatula to mask his tension. He fiddled with the utensils for a little too long waiting for the Count to say something else. But he’d run out of time to not return his attention to the Count.

The Count hadn’t moved an inch. He was studying O’Chunks.

“Yer not well,” he clarified.

It was subtle, but O’Chunks caught the slight droop in the Count’s ear. The book lowered to match, but being able to see the Count’s mouth wouldn’t help O’Chunks catch his words any easier. “Count Bleck is… better… n-now,” he mumbled.

O’Chunks tilted his head sympathetically. “I dunno about tha’, Count. Jus’ yesterday yeh were pretty out of it.”

“No.” The Count frowned up at him. “Yester… day… w-we set up… Count Bleck m-mended the final… patch…”

“Tha’ was  _two_  days ago, Count. Yesterday yeh were…” He gestured awkwardly. He still couldn’t find a good word for when the Count got… like that. ‘Asleep’ implied he could be woken up… ‘Sick’ was the best they had come up with.  _The word you want is ‘crazy,’_  his mind offered. He shook it off.

He watched the horror dawning on the Count’s face. He knew what was coming next. But the Count was never going to learn to help himself if he wasn’t aware. There was no justifiable reason to hide it.

The Count’s ears twitched back. “… H-how long… was… C-Count Bleck… ill…?” he stammered.

Was there a better way to tell him? He hadn’t taken it well at all the last time he’d asked. But the longer O’Chunks waited, the longer he stared sadly at the Count, the worse it would sound. “Yeh already weren’t doin’ well when yeh and Nassy picked me up, Count. So, I guess, more’n a year.”

O’Chunks may as well have just socked him in the gut. Trembling, the Count held his head in his hands. “No… Th-that’s not right… I-it was… a few weeks…?” He squeezed his eyes shut. O’Chunks wasn’t sure whether to touch him or not. “I-it was only… only a few w-weeks…”

Better to go with his instinct, here. O’Chunks patted the Count gently on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Count,” he whispered. “Don’t panic.”

“H-how could…”

“It’s alright,” he said again.

The Count groaned wordlessly. It took him a moment to find his voice again. “No… No…” O’Chunks rubbed his hand across the Count’s back. There wasn’t much else he could do. He swallowed.

“Th’burgers are nearly ready,” he said, hesitantly. “We can eat something, and then I bet yeh dollars teh doughnuts Nastasia’ll be back by th’time we’re done.”

The Count stared up at O’Chunks in confusion. O’Chunks braced himself. “Who is Nastasia…?”

“Stay calm, Count,” O’Chunks tried, before the Count’s eyes widened.

“C-Count Bleck… f-forgot… Where is she? Wh-where is N-Nastasia?” He started thrashing around, as if he couldn’t decide which direction to look in first. O’Chunks drew his arm away from the Count. He was beyond help now. When the Count’s book dropped to the ground with a wet  _thump_ , O’Chunks scooted himself between the fire and the Count.

“Where is…” He was standing. He paced a step’s length one way, then another, unable to make up his mind. “Where is… Where is…” He trailed off, and stopped moving altogether.

O’Chunks waited a minute to let the Count catch his breath. “Count?” he ventured.

No response. O’Chunks ran his hand up his brow with a sigh. He hoped this time the news would stick. Watching the Count fumble and drop the ball like this was exhausting. With a long arm he reached out and tapped where he guessed the Count’s hand was, under his cape. “Sit down, Count.”

He did as he was told. The book must have been within the Count’s field of vision, because he turned his head and picked it up, unseeing. “ _Count Bleck is foolish. The dragon can perfectly well protect herself. He would stop worrying incessantly about pointless matters. He would stop being such a vapid, insufferable little animal._ ” The running water thankfully washed out the nails-on-the-chalkboard undertone his voice took on in these periods. Small comforts.

O’Chunks poked at the patties with the spatula. They were about done. It was a shame the Count probably wouldn’t really taste his cooking, but there was a good chance he would be up and about again tomorrow. “I know it’s hard, Count. She’ll be back soon.”


End file.
